


Not So Lonely

by stickyrice



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, Mollcroft, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-27
Updated: 2014-11-18
Packaged: 2018-02-15 00:13:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2208351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stickyrice/pseuds/stickyrice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes someone else to really realize how lonely you are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Not So Lonely Christmas

She ran down the stairs, tears welling in her eyes, making her vision blurry. He just had to go and do it again; couldn’t keep his mouth shut, always have to show off on how clever he is; always making her the butt of all his jokes. But the sad part, the part that made her the most upset was the fact that she just let him.

Swiping angrily at her tears with the back of her hand, she fled through the front door, the icy cold hitting her like a ton of bricks, stealing her breath away. Shivers immediately wracked her body; in her haste she had forgotten her coat upstairs. Glancing back up at the window and seeing its marry glow, as if it were mocking her, she settled her resolve; her pride and dignity winning over, she would not go back up there, even at the pains of freezing to death.

Wrapping her arms around her middle, in a feeble attempt preserve what little warmth is still in her body, she looks around briefly to see if she could spy a cab. With a frustrated huff and a slight indignant stamp of her foot, she notices that there are none on the usually busy street, damn Christmas.

Bending her head down and closing her eyes, she turns her face away from the biting wind that has left her nose and cheeks stained pinks from the cold. Turning around she took quick, hurried steps in the direction that would take her to the nearest tube stations.

Her charge was abruptly halted as it crashed into a solid, warm body. With a loud gasp her arms flailed into the air as she lost her balance. Anticipating a cold, hard fall, she closed her eyes tightly, as if not seeing herself fall, would make the impact less; out of sight, out of mind she thought hopefully.

However after a moment without feeling her impact onto the icy ground, she cracked open one eye, and chanced a look at what had halted her fall.

Dark wool overcoat with a crisp white shirt peeking out from where a scarf was securely tied. Blinking her eyes open, she raised her eyes, only to be met by curious and slightly startled blue/grey eyes of Mycroft Holmes.

Upon recognizing the man, her cheeks turned scarlet; heat infusing her face, running up to the tips of her ears and down below the neckline of her dress.

“M-M-Mr. Holmes!” she exclaimed, surprise clearly evident in her voice.

Tipping his head to her in acknowledgement, he righted her; one hand resting on her elbow, the other wrapped around her back; she could feel the heat of him soak into her skins, making it tingle.

Still wrapped in his arms, he made sure she was steady on her feet before he let his arms drop away. At the loss of contact she shivered, whether it was from the loss of the extra heart from him, or was the loss of his arms around her, she didn’t know.

Finally noting her state of undress, he promptly unbuttoned his coat and wrapped it around her smaller frame.

“Oh” she said slightly taken aback; the mannerisms of past days not quite translating into present time, and the thought of a man giving up his coat, especially in this weather, was not seen nor heard of anymore.

“I couldn’t possibly...” she trailed off, looking anxiously at him; not wanting him to suffer just because of her wounded pride.

She breathed in the scent of him; the smell of him assaulted her senses, giving her a heady high; a warm woody scent of burning cedar, whispers of tobacco, and aged whiskey- it was strong, bold, and masculine.   

Sweeping a quick glance over her, he replied with a slight quirk of his brow, “But I insist, especially since it seems as though my little brother has again been an insensitive little prat to you once again”

“How...?” she questioned, her eyes widened in alarm, how could he have possibly known.

He flashed her a knowing smirk, and she just shook her head at the Holmesian trait that the brothers shared; the knowing; the deducing; the cleverness.

“Now, it seems as if you were on your way to the tube station, but I must insist that you allow me to give you a ride, it is an especially cold night” he told her in a soft, genuine tone.

“You have already done so much, I couldn’t possible impose on you anymore, especially tonight. You’re most likely expected somewhere and here I am in the way” she replied, her words tinged with guilt.

Glancing at the window to Sherlock’s flat, he shook his head.

“It would appear that I am not need tonight” he said elusively.

She followed his gaze up the window, feeling a little bit of her heart break as she processed his words- he was being cast off by Sherlock just like her; if he had no immediate use for you, then you were either promptly deleted from his mind palace or forgotten until the time he did need you.

Meeting his eyes, an understanding passed between them; something that was drawing them nearer to each other. Holding his gaze, she gave him a nod, “Thank you, I very much appreciate it.”

Tilting his head, he outstretched an arm to lead her to the waiting black town car. Opening the door for her, he guided her into the seat before going around to the next side to get into the car.

The warmth of the car instantly relaxed her muscles that were tense from the cold, and she let out a little breathy sign as she felt the warm seep back into her bones. Glancing at the man beside her, she gave him a bright smile, which he returned with a smile one of his own.

With a question in her eyes and on her lips, she looked at him in question as he told the driver the address of her flat.

Giving her a small, knowing smile and slight shrug of his shoulders he replied to her unasked question, “Minor position within the British Government”

A small laugh slipped past her lips, filling the car with its playful, light lilt; a tinkling music to his ears that made his eyes stray to the lips that it came from.

Giving him one more smile, they both settled back into their seats watching but not seeing the London scenery pass them by, both lost in their own thoughts.

Sherlock, he was so bright, so alluring; he drew you in like a moth to a flame. However she had learned time and time again that the closer you get to a flame there is the inevitable risk of being burned, as she had experienced with him on numerous occasions. It wasn’t love; she knew it wasn’t love, but there was still that something that kept drawing her back.  

Chancing a glance at the man beside her, her thoughts turned to the elder Holmes brother. Mycroft Holmes, he was so completely different and yet so strikingly similar to Sherlock. They both had a keen intellect, a sharp gaze that could cut to your very soul, and a confidence and swagger that just oozed out of them, and yet, this man was anything but Sherlock. He was cool and calculated; thought before he spoke. He was aware of others and could be considerate.

Again her eyes swept over him, studying his profile. He had a strong jaw with lips that looked firm and yet soft at the same time. His hair was neat and strictly in its place. His skin was smooth and pale, with a light dusting of freckles that smattered across his nose and cheeks. How, she wondered what it would be like to kiss those lips to see if they felt as soft as they looked, or to run her hands through his hair and tease it out of place.

With a start, she blushed a deep shade of crimson at her wandering thoughts; this was Sherlock's older brother for gods sake, Mr. British Government himself, and besides didn't she fancy Sherlock she asked herself. She just prayed to god that he did not noticed her studying him with heated eyes.

The moment her eyes landed on him; studied him, he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, her heavy, heated stare evoking a physical reacting from him.

Molly Hooper he thought; she was so plain, so ordinary, and yet she was unlike any person he had ever met. She had a keen sense of people; an intuition about a person feelings and an insight into their character, and yet she was oblivious of herself. She was no beauty queen, but who was he to judge, and yet there was a subtle beauty about her that most overlook; there is a spark and charm about her that that was intoxicating, that was infectious.

Molly Hooper was not one to stand out; when one looked at her she was forgettable, however there was something about her that got under your skin, and then one day you come to wonder how she became a part of your life. Even from a distance and with barely any contact, his mind would often drift to her and wonder about the mousey companion of his brother’s, if for nothing but to wonder how she kept someone like Sherlock’s attention.

What he found most annoying about other people, it was strangely endearing on her. Molly Hooper was a contradiction; an enigma; she made him think and rethink his preconceived notions, and he could say without a doubt that not many could do that.

She is so lost in thought that she doesn’t notice that they have gotten to their destination until she felt the chilled air on her skin and a hand extended through her open door. Grasping the outstretched hand, she let him help her out of the car, ducking her to hide the blush that was staining her cheeks- no had ever helped her out of a car before; it was something that she only saw in old romantic movies, and the thought of Mycroft Holmes being her romantic hero was just preposterous.

Giving her a small smile his other hand drifted to the small of her back as she guided him to her front door. Unlocking the door she turned to him, their eyes meeting in the dim light of the porch; she searched his eyes, read his smile and to her he looked as lonely as she felt. Deciding to throw caution to the wind; she would be brave tonight; tonight she would not be lonely, and neither would he.

“Come in for a cuppa” she stated, not asking but telling him.

His eyes widened in slight surprise, no one had told him, demanded him to do anything for quite some time now- occupational hazard, so this just added to his mounting curiosity. He could tell her no, make his excuses, he should in fact, but there was something about her that tugged at his mind, his body, and if there was anything a Holmes enjoyed, it was a good mystery.

Tilting his head in acknowledgement he followed her inside.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italics indicates thought
> 
> :)

Chapter 2

Following her inside, he stood just inside the doorway awkwardly; for as cool and collected when dealing with terrorists, international crisis or tantrum throwing politicians, his nerves are steel and unwavering, but with this woman, she made him feel the urge to fidget like some pubescent teenager. Thrusting his hands into his pockets to hide his nervousness, even though it was only from himself, he watched as she positively buzzed around the room, flitting from one light switch to the next, illuminating the room.

She had a small but, for a lack of better words, cozy flat that held warm, rich earthy tones. But it was more than just that, throughout the room there were accents of vibrant coloured pillows, throws, and rugs, and little trinkets scattered about the room on shelves, tables, and windowsills. Her living room was dominated by a plush looking sofa and armchair, a lap with colourful bobbles hanging over the arm chair, and the small end table beside it littered with books and scientific journals, and if he wasn’t mistake tabloid magazines. The doors branching off of the main room, he could only assume were her bedroom and washroom.

With one last sweeping glance around her flat, he thought, with a small smile tugging at his lips that this was such a perfect reflection of her personality if there ever was one. This place was meant to be a comfort; to be a home and not just a house; to be that escape from the ever busy city outside.

His eyes fell on her once again, following her every move and he could not help but notice that she would constantly glance back at him when she thought that he was not paying attention. Curiously, he crooked his head to the side and observed her further, trying to discern what the thoughts and emotions flashing behind her eyes meant.

Dropping her keys into the dish near the door, Molly quickly walked into the room trying to distract herself from the nervousness that was bubbling up inside of her as she felt his presence follow in behind her.

_“He came in, he actually come in ... Oh my god, what do I do now!?”_ were her frantic thoughts as she moved about flicking on the lights and trying to discretely straighten some of the clutter around the room, least she give off the wrong impression and he decide that she was not worth his time, because _she really did want to be worth his time ... Oh my, where did that come from_ , she thought in slight surprise as the smell of him once again invaded her sense, spreading a wide grin across her lips.

“ _For gods sake Molly focus!”_ she reprimanded herself; giving herself a mental slap.

_“Right, tea. Oh, but I’m still in his coat and it’s so soft and most likely very expensive and it smells like him and I don’t want to spill anything on it so, right I should take it off first, but wait I’m still in this fancy dress and I absolutely do not need to embarrass myself again tonight._ ” she thought as she paused in her journey around the room and stared off into space.

“ _Right the bedroom then_ ” she thought as she moved towards it lost in thought.

As she was moving in the direction of her bedroom, out of the corner of her eye she saw him standing awkwardly still just inside her doorway, and upon realization she whirled around to face him, her eyes wide in surprise that she had forgotten him there.

“Oh goodness, Mr. Holmes I am so sorry” she said as she ducked her head in embarrassment, a faint blush staining her cheeks.

He gave her a slightly strained, sad smile; even invited his presence was still not wanted he thought, “It's getting rather late Dr. Hooper I'm sure that you are tired and my presence is just hindering that; I don't wish to be an imposition on you” he said as he made to turned to leave.

“No wait!” She blurted out, a hand reached out as if to physically stop him from leaving.

He stopped in his tracks; his body slight turned away from hers.

“Please, don't go... I just ... Well I just didn't expect you to actually come in, not that I didn't want you to because I really did want you to, you seem very nice and you gave me your coat so you I wouldn’t be cold even though you didn’t have to and drove me home so I didn’t have to take the tube and helped me out of the car and walked me to my door and I'm rambling on and on about things that you already know because you were there and I'm really making an idiot out of myself again aren't I. I'm just going to shut up now and I'll be back in literally two minutes I promise, so just... don't go, just ... stay.” She said in all one very big breath, as she hurried to her room backwards, still facing him with her hands up and motioning him to not go anywhere.

Mycroft couldn't help but stare at her retreating form, lips slightly quirked and eyebrows raised in bemused fascination, when suddenly as fast as she had gone, her door opened and her head popped out, “I'm so sorry, please make yourself at home” she said nodding towards the living room area, a weak smile gracing her lips.

Untying his scarf and peeling back his black leather gloves, he set them on the low coffee table in front of him, before undoing the buttons of his suit jacket and taking a seat on the plush sofa. There was just something about her home that made him some of the tension in his shoulders melt away and his usually ridged posture soften. Maybe it was the warm tones of her home that made him think of the stolen moments in his father’s study that he would hide away in to read when he was a boy, or the smell of cinnamon and vanilla that reminded him of the Christmas cakes his mother use to make, whatever the case he felt himself relaxing further into the cushions of the sofa.

Leaning back into the cushions, he let himself slightly relax; letting his usual immaculate posture slip just a little bit to sink further back into the sofa and let it curl around him; hug him. Feeling the surround comfort, he let his head tip back against the back of the sofa, and for a moment he let his eyes close. He was tired, there was just so much; so many secrets, so many unspoken words, so many actions not taken, and so much loneliness, there was just so much and it was tiring.

Upon hearing the creak of her door, he rises to his feet as Molly re-enters the room, his mask falling back into place. She comes into the room tugging nervously at her long, frayed Christmas jumper sleeve, a jumper that, by the looks of it had seen its fair share of Christmas’.

Reading the bemused question in his eyes, she gave a small shrug of her shoulders, a wistful smile on her lips, “It is still Christmas” she said as she made her way to the kitchen to set about pulling down fine bone china cups and saucers.

“No need to explain my dear, when we were younger, Mummy use to dress Sherlock and I in the most horrid, matching jumpers for Christmas” he told her as he remembered it fondly.

She gave him a bright smile, a feeling of warmth spreading through her as she realized that he felt comfortable enough with her to be sharing details about himself and his life with her.

Emboldened by his willingness to share himself with her, she ventured a question to him, “I don’t mean to pry, and you really don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but I just wanted to know what you meant earlier by you not being needed at Sherlock’s tonight”

A slightly tense silence settled over them that made her feel as though she had overstepped his boundaries. She was just about to apologize for asking such a question when he answered her, his voice devoid of emotions, “Sherlock now has friends in his life and there is now no need for me.”

“Surely you don’t mean that, you are his brother after all” she countered, her idea of family obviously different than that of the Holmes brothers.

“Friends, he goes in for that sort of thing these days” he said with a slight wrinkle of his nose.

“And you don’t?” she questioned.

He did not reply to her question, but rather raised an eyebrow at her, silently giving her the ‘me?-are-you-kidding’ kind of look.

Staring into her tea, as if it held the answers, she contemplated the man beside her.

“You should try it some time, you know” she challenged him.

“And what is it that I should try Dr. Hooper?” he asked, perplexed.

“Friends, or at least a friend” came her slightly hesitant answer.

“And who do you supposed would want to be ‘friends’ with be or better yet that I would want to be friends with” a slight bitterness creeping into his voice.

She gave pause, building up her courage, “Well... well how about me. I’d... I’d like to try and be your friend”

Looking at her in bewilderment, his eyes blinking a few times in skepticism, he regarded her, she was, for a lack of better words rather unpredictable and he was not sure if that thrilled or unnerved him. Tipping his head slightly in acknowledgement, he gives her a tight smile.

“Well I do so appreciate the sentiment Dr. Hooper...”

“Molly” she interrupts him.

“Molly, people do not befriend me” he countered

“Well it’s a good thing that I am not people then” she said with some finality, not backing down.

Recognizing that this was not a battle that he was going to win, he made the wise decision in letting the matter drop. Silence once again settled over them, both lost in thought, contemplating the other.

Finally with a quick glance at the clock, he noticed the later hour. Turing his body once again towards her, he spoke, his eyes belaying his gratitude, “I’ve had a lovely even Molly, and I thank you for your company, it was most enjoyable, however I think it is time that I take my leave.”

Nodding her head in understanding she retrieved his coat and walked him to the door.

With his coat on, he looped his scarf around his neck, and outstretched his hand to grasp the doorknob.

Biting her lip nervously, she really didn’t know how he would react; if he was anything like Sherlock he would either go catatonic or shoot her out surprised fright. Steeling her resolve, she came up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder.

Slightly startled, he turned around to face her once more. As he was about to open his mouth to question her, he felt her arms slide around his middle and she pulled his bigger frame towards her in a tight hug, resting her head, ear pressed against his chest.

It took him mind a few quick moments to process what was happening, and then tentatively his arms came around her, shifting a bit awkwardly along her back, not exactly sure where he should let his hands settle.

It felt like they stayed embracing each other for an age, when it reality it was but a moment. The feel of his hard, warm body against hers made a soft sigh escape from her lips. The feel of her soft, warm breath soaking through his layers of cloths to heat his skin made him squirm slightly. At his movement, it snapped her back to the present moment, and a deep blush stole across her cheeks and she quickly let him go, her arms falling to her sides.

Clearing his throat, he gave her a small, thigh nod, “Good night Molly”

“Good night Mr. Holmes” she replied back, her embarrassment slowly subsiding.

Looking into her eyes, he searched for something, what, he really would not be able to tell you, but it was there, “Please, call me Mycroft”

Without waiting for her to reply, he made his quick departure, slightly embarrassed with his lapse in control over his emotions.

Resting her forehead on the now closed door, a small smile tugged at her lips as she whispered to the now empty space “Goodnight Mycroft.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a long delay ... went away for a holiday and when I came back I really didn't want to do much of anything besides be back on holiday lol
> 
> ... I think I have lost the plot lol but here you go anyways

Chapter 3

The immediate days that followed this newfound friendship nothing happened; they didn’t see each other, they didn’t call or text one another, there was no interaction of any sort really; things just went on as they usually would. However, he did somewhat feel a sense of being lighter; as if the knowledge of having a ‘friend’ changed something in him, and if just this knowledge of having a ‘friend’ could do this for him, he really began to wonder what else it could do for him. He was no stranger to the concept of having friends; it just never really interested him before.

Sitting in his Whitehall office, he took a moment to contemplate this newfound development, and wondered how he could orchestrate another meeting with her that would seem for all intents and purposes like an organic meeting, and not appear to be something that was carefully cultivated by him.

So that was what found him time and time again make notes and observing her through the CCTV cameras, as if it was some sort of science project and he was studying the natural habits of a Molly Hooper.

Work at 8am; a weak tea with milk and one sugar before she began her shift in the morgue; appears to like to engage in conversations (albeit one sided) with her patients; is right handed but prefers to favour her left hand for everything but writing; takes lunch to work on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday but like to step out to the shops for lunch on Monday and Friday; every afternoon she stops on the third floor to chat with Jennifer Dawson (friend most likely, background check still pending); needs a 4 o’clock pick me up of caffeine and something sweet so frequents the small cafe and patisserie shop 2 blocks from the hospital on her last break; and then leaves for home by half 6 in which she takes the train all the way back to her flat, evenings spent alone with her cat. Sometimes, he had deduced, when she was having a particularly bad day (i.e. the death of small children or a gruesome, senseless death) she would frequent the mall as a sort of retail therapy.

Of all of the options presented, he would either have to produce a dead body and claim its national importance to see her in the morgue, “bump” into her at the mall or happen upon the same cafe that she likes to frequent. Seeing as he would rather burn all of his bespoke suits than go to a mall, ugh the people, the noise he thought with a face of distaste. And as of late there hadn’t been anyone that had annoyed him to the extent of having an extra body just lying around, so he supposed that the most probable option would have to be the coffee shop.

\----------------------------------------------------------

The small bell above the door jingled as he walked in slowly. Adjusting the soft woolen scarf around his neck, he allowed the warmth and smell of the shop overwhelm his body, he rarely frequents these establishments, his beverages when he wants or needs them, they just happen to appear, he notes to self, must get Anthea a gift of appreciation. He breathes in deeply and lets the aromas and warmth surround and seep into his body, letting it chase away the chill from the frigid January air.

Checking the time on his pocket watch, by his estimation she should be arriving right about... the jingle of the bell overhead had him glance up briefly and he couldn’t help a small smirk appear at his impeccable timing. He turned his back to her, so as not to appear over eager and to give their meeting an air of spontaneity.

Head down and rummaging in her purse she failed to see him standing there in front of her in line. Hearing the line of caffeine addicts move along, she shuffled with the cue head still bent looking for loose change when she collided with a solid, wool clad form in front of her.

At the feel of her slight body bumping into his, he set his expression up to give off an air of annoyance and irritation; his brow frowned and lips pinched, meanwhile a devious smirk played just below the surface of his severe expression.  
  
Turning around he was met with a wide eyed Molly, the preconceived words dying in her throat, and instead his name was replaced on her tongue and stuttered out instead.  
  
"Mycroft!" She exclaimed, surprised, her eyes lighting up at the sight of him.  
  
“Oh hello Dr. Hooper, it’s lovely to see you again” he said in a measured voice, best not to give away the game too early he thought.

She gave him a slight frown and pointed to her person, reminding him in a stern voice “Molly”

Mycroft tipped his head in acknowledgement and said “Molly”. He briefly ran his eyes over her form; her mannerisms intrigued him; a smile lit her face, reaching her eyes making them bright, and if he wasn’t mistaken he had hear her breath slightly hitch in her throat when he had recognized him. It would seem that she did truly want to be his friend as she had said a few weeks ago.  

After they placed their orders for the beverages they stood side by side, both not knowing what to say, an awkward silence settled over the pair.

Gathering up their ready beverages, Molly was torn; on the one hand she wanted very much to stay and get to know the man better, but on the other hand she felt her aversion to social settings rearing its ugly head. Lost in thought she was slightly startled by his words.

“Would you care to join me Molly, it would seem that I have inexpertly found myself with a bit of extra time”

With her mind screaming flee, she heard herself agreeing and moving towards a pair of plush chairs near the back of the cafe with him slightly behind her.

Settling into the chairs across from each other, he opened the conversation with asking her about work. Relief washed over her as she regaled him with tales of her going-ons in the morgue; a safe topic for her; something that she knew. He nodded along and interjected with a few questions of his own, seemingly genuinely interested in what she had to say.

With the ice broken the easily feel into conversation about everything and nothing at all, both lost in a world of their own making; the outside world melting away.

\-------------------------------------

Noting the time, Molly jumped up in surprise, her 15 minute break had run away with her and it was now running over into half the hour.

“I am so late, I should have been back 15 minutes ago” she looked at him with a slight longing and apology in her eyes, not wanting to leave but knowing she had no choice.

Gathering up their things they made their way out of the shop.

Nodding in acknowledgement to her “It has been a ... pleasure Molly” he said with a striking realization that the time with her really was a pleasure.

With a smile that stretched from ear to ear, her eyes slightly downcast and bashful she told him in a small voice, "You didn't have to spy on me you know, you could have just called, that’s what friends do you know.”  
  
"I beg your pardon?" He asked, trying to inflict an air of bewilderment and innocence into his voice, the tops of his ears burning bright at being caught out.  
  
Giving him a small laugh she looked up at him "Oh come on, a man like you doesn't come to places like this" her brows frowned in curiosity, "Do you even get your own coffee" she voiced, then realizing she had said that part out loud blushed a deeper shade of red.  
  
"What I mean is... Thanks. I wanted to see you too, I just didn't know how to bring it up without seeming like some over eager, clingy idiot"  
  
Her eyes wide with horror when she processed the words she had just said, "Oh my god! Not that I think you are an idiot or over eager or anything like that, that's just how I thought I would be, but you're not, really! I appreciated it and I had a good time but of course you knew that or didn't know that I don't know..." She trailed off miserably; she always knew how to make the worst impression with a Holmes.  
  
He let out a little laugh "I enjoyed your company as well Molly" he said as he gave her a small smile of his own, his bright eyes reinforcing the truth of his words.  
  
She beamed up at him in return. They stood staring at each other for what felt like hours, but were only mere seconds, when big droplets of rain startled them both out of their stupor.  
  
Reaching down he hoisted his ever present umbrella over their heads opening it as it swung up in an arch, and in that split second that it blocked their faces from view he impulsively leaned in close to her and kiss her on the cheek; barely any contact, and just a whisper of a kiss, but a kiss all the same. Because why the hell not, he was the British government he could do what he wants.  
  
She blinked up at him in a sort of daze, her hand reaching up unconsciously to the spot where his lips touched, and a sort of goofy grin spreading slowly across her lips.  
  
He gave her a smirk, reached down to grasp her hand and bring it up to the handle of the umbrella, and wrapped it around it.  
  
"Until next time Molly Hooper" he told her with a grin as he stepped out from the protection of the umbrella and into the waiting vehicle that had (to her) just magically appeared out of nowhere.  
  
She stood in that spot not quite believing what had just happened, the only proof that she had that reinforced its truth no matter the absurdity of the situation, was the nondescript black umbrella in her hand.


	4. Chapter 4

Now Mycroft Holmes does not do anything just because; there is always a reason for what he does and how it does it. So it was not just because he was being a gentleman that he had left his umbrella with Molly Hooper, but rather a small part in his much bigger plan.

What this bigger plan was he wasn’t quite sure just yet. Sure he liked her; she was unexpectedly pleasant company. After she got passed her nervousness she was actually a very good conversationalist, and the things that she did say because of her social awkwardness was rather amusing. 

\---------------------------------------------------

It had been a rather long and tiring shift at Brat’s; Sherlock was a on a case and would only accept her in the morgue and was being his insufferable, demanding self, so what was supposed to be an 8 hours shift had turned into a 13 hour shift.

With a sigh she curled her legs under her as she settled into the red overstuffed armchair by the window. Dressed in a warm pair of flannel pajama pants and her old oversized university sweater, her hair still damp from her shower, and a warm mug of tea clasped her in hands, her thoughts drifted away with her.

What was going on, she was rather confused; as of late her heart didn’t flutter the way it use to when she was with Sherlock, it still fluttered but that wasn’t enough for her anymore. She wanted more, more of what, she didn’t know. All she did know was that it wasn’t going to be found in Sherlock. Sure he was pretty and nice to look at, but pretty and nice to look at was not going to keep her warm at night or happy and loved.

The sound of the rain pitter pattering against the window pane, pulled her from her thoughts, making her eyes stray to nondescript, black umbrella that was hooked on the back of one of her kitchen chairs. Setting her cup down on the small table beside her chair, she went over and brought back the umbrella back with her to her chair. Tossing it from hand to hand she contemplated its importance and the man it belonged to.

What did it mean; Mycroft Holmes was not the type of person to do something without cause or meaning, so leaving the umbrella with her, had to mean something ... right? Did he mean to leave it so that she would have an excuse to contact him; does he want her to contact him; does this mean that he fancies her, but why would he fancy her; was it some sort of quirky gift that she was supposed to figure out; why does he always have an umbrella even if there is no forecast for rain? Or was she just being silly; her wishful mind creating something that was not really there.

With a frustrated huff, she threw it down onto the coffee table in front of her, this stupid umbrella is driving me insane, she thought as she scowled at it, her arms crossing over her chest.

Mycroft Holmes, he so different from his brother, almost a polar opposite; where Sherlock was a whirlwind storm, he was the deadly calm of its eye; where Sherlock was erratic and wild, Mycroft was precise and calculated; where the younger was chaotic, the elder was a steady rock.

And yet, they were so similar; both had a passion and love so fierce for the ones they considered theirs it bordered on possessive and obsessive; both were intelligent to a fault and wasn’t afraid to let the others around them know it, be it subtly or blatantly; both could fill out a suite quite nicely; and both oh so unattainable.

With a sigh, her eyes strayed to the discarded umbrella once more. With a frown, she distinctly turned her gaze away from the infernal umbrella, resolutely determined to keep it and the Holmes men out of her mind.

Picking up her book from the side table, she flicked through it, turning to her page. After the umpteenth time her eyes read the same sentence and her brain not comprehending, she gave up with a frustrated growl. It was that stupid umbrella; it was hard not to notice it now that she had noticed it.

Tossing her book down, she stared intently at the umbrella, her brow frowned and her hand twitching, itching to do something. Snatching up her mobile, she tapped it against her leg nervously; what would she say; what would he think.

Tapping out a message on her mobile she clicked the send button before she completely lost her courage.

_Hi Mycroft, it’s Molly. It’s raining did you know... of course you know but just thought I’d tell you in case you didn’t know and you were side and you thought you had your umbrella but you didn’t because you don’t because you left it with me and ... would you like to have coffee, with me that is... so that I could give you back your umbrella of course...tomorrow afternoon? Well once again it was Molly, just text or call me back or don’t if you really don’t want to that is._

Tossing it away from her as if it burned, she stared at it with wide eyes, not quite believing what she had just done. With a groan she put her head in her hands; why did she always become a bumbling, rambling idiot, it must be some disease that she had.

Her pity party was interrupted just moments later by the buzz of her phone. She looked at it in fright, dreading but dying to know what the message said. Taking a deep breath, she opened the message.

_#Molly!# I# just #got# Twitter,# follow #me #on #Twitter #Mom. #Look #sweetie #I #am #learning #how #to #hashtag!_

_Mom, as much as I love you, I don’t have time for Twitter and its nonsense anyways, and it might just be me but I think you need to revise hash tagging  –Molly_

She replied, sort of feeling silly at the thought of pining for Mycroft to text her.

Her phone buzzed again. Rolling her eyes, she anticipated another text message riddled with # from her technologically challenged mother.

_Molly, you’re offer for coffee was very touching, however I am afraid I must decline. -MH_

Her heart fell as she read the words; shot down by another Holmes, what was wrong with her, really! I mean I think I look decent enough and I am a doctor for crying out loud, I do have to have some brains, she thought.

Another Buzz.

_My schedule will not allow me any free moments before 6pm, however, if you are amendable, would you join me for dinner tomorrow night... to get back my umbrella of course.  –MH_

A deep blush rose up her neck and stained her cheeks crimson, and she let out a groan at how obviously flimsy her excuse about his umbrella was, and how he had immediately seen right through it and was apparently taking the piss out of it too. She had half a mind to turn him down, but knew deep down that the stupid umbrella and what-if’s would gnaw away at her until she saw him again.

_I would like that –Molly_

_Fantastic, I will collect you at 7pm tomorrow –MH_

Molly could not help the large grin that spread across her face, almost splitting it into two, and jumping up from her chair and dancing around the room. She couldn’t believe she was going on a date with Mycroft Holmes. Suddenly she stopped in her track... er was it a date, or was it just two friends having dinner? What did he mean he will collect her; did that mean he was personally coming or just sending a car for her? And he was always so well dressed, what would she wear?!

Another buzz of her phone jarred her from her panic, that her over imaginative mind was driving her crazy with.

_You didn’t have to make excuses to want to see me Molly; you just have to say so, that’s what friends do –MH_

She laughed out loud remembering her exact words to him just a few day previous; she could just imagine a cheeky half grin making him look all the more devious.

\-------------------------------------------------------

Molly twirled in front of her full length mirror in her room admiring the way the dress swished around her legs. It was a simple fit and flare dress with a high waist, a pleated skirt, and lace trim around the edges; it made her legs longer and made her appear taller than she really was. It was a plain black dress with a small glint of silver from the buckle of the slim belt at her waist.

Twirling one last time, hands on her hips she turned to the lounging tabby cat perched on the edge of her bed.

“So what do you think Toby?”

The cat lazily raised his head and peered at her with a disdainful look at having been disturbed. Getting up the cat turned, flicked his tale, and bound off in search of a quiet space.

“Some help you are” she said as she stuck her tongue out at his retreating form.

Turning back to the mirror, she peered at herself once again. Usually she was not one to wear much makeup, after all who did she had to impress, working alone down in the morgue. Tapping her lips with her index finger, she decided that a little makeup couldn’t go amiss. With a few swipes of little brushes, she was satisfied with the way her eyes appeared smoky; making her brown eyes lighten and glow.

Going over to her vanity, she searched through her small collection of lipsticks, when she suddenly stopped short. Why was she so worried about her dress; her makeup; her hair.

This was just two friend sharing dinner together, that was all, she repeated in her head, trying to convince herself that she didn’t want it to be anything more, but distinctly feeling a slight twinge of disappointment that was quiet surprising. Did she want this to be a date? Better yet would he even want to date her?

Slipping on her shoes, she couldn’t help but grin as she heard a knock at her door; exactly on time. Shrugging into her coat and collecting her purse from the dresser, she went to open the door.

Raising his eyes as he heard the door open, he was quiet surprised by the woman that was standing on the other side. She was nothing like the mosey pathologist that his brother spoke of, or even the woman he had coffee with just days previous. This woman standing in front of him now was confident and sleek; her eyes sparkling and alluring, and her lips full and accented a soft pink.  He longed to reach out and brush his thumb across her lips just so he could feel if they were as soft as they looked. The way her dress pulled across her body accented the curve of her hips and breasts, only to flare out and reveal smooth, shapely legs that he would just love to run his hands up.

With a start, his eyes widened in surprise; where had these thoughts come from? This was Molly Hooper, his brother’s pathologist.

He was pulled from his thoughts as he noticed a blush creeping up to her cheeks, and realised that he had yet t o say anything and there was an awkward silence that was starting to settle between them. Clearing his throat, he gave her a small, shy smile, “You look lovely my dear” he murmured, his voice smooth and gentle, as if he was unsure if his words would be welcomed.

He was rewarded with a brilliant smile that lit her eyes and only served to make her more beautiful; brother’s pathologist or not, whatever he did to make her smile like that he would endeavour to do it again.

Raising shy eyes up to meet his, she was surprised to notice how warm his otherwise cool, steel blue eyes were; the way they drew her in and made her stomach flutter; the way they were intent on her and only on her, noticing her.

Her eyes swept down his body once more, quickly. The crisp, elegant cut of his suite cut a striking figure; it accentuated his board shoulders and chest, his dark pinstriped trousers made his already impossibly long legs even longer, and hugged him in all the right places.

Turnabout is fair play he thought as he silently stood there and let her inspect his person. Finally her eyes swept back up to his, only to be met with a grin and laughter in his eyes. Before her social awkwardness could set in, he indicated with his hand to the waiting car, “Shall we my dear”

Holding the door open for her, she moved past him, slightly brushing against him as she went, the door barely big enough to fit two people through. He bit back a surprised gasp when he felt her body brush against his; not prepared for the way his body and mind called out for her.

Pulling the door closed, he joined her walking down the narrow walkway, his hand settling on the small of her back, a small self satisfied smile findings its way onto his lips, but hidden by the drawing darkness as he felt her shiver at his touch.

“Cold?” he asked her with a cheeky grin.

Her eyes narrowed at him, but the small smile on her lips betrayed her, and all he could do was give her an innocent shrug.


	5. Chapter 5

Seated in the car, both could not help but feel the gapping space between them; both wanting to somehow close the gap both physically and metaphorically, but at the same time not knowing how or if that was somewhere they really wanted to go.

They kept throwing each other covert, timid glances when they thought the other was not looking. After catching himself glancing her way again, and seeing her peeking at him from under long lashed from the reflection in the window, and watching her blush so prettily; he wondered just how far her blush extended. He had to mentally shake himself to get a grip; _this is just silly_ he thought. _He was Mycroft freaking Holmes for crying out loud, not some hormonal adolescent._

The man, emphasis on the word man, behind the British Government does not pine away after some girl, no,  woman, like a love struck school boy, he thought to himself as he consciously straightened his back and squared his shoulders.

He glanced at her again out of the corner of his eye; his eyes immediately straying to her twitching hands as they fidgeted in her lap, clenching and unclenching nervously.

_Stop it!_ He silently chided himself _. Right, something to break the tension._ His immediate repertoire of knowledge, draw a blank; he had not found himself in such a situation in longer than he would really like to think about. This whole, actually wanting to form a relationship with someone; this caring for someone outside of his family and Anthea was new. And in all of those instances it wasn’t a conscious choice of caring for those people; rather it was just something that happened over years of acquaintance that just snuck up on him. However, this was different, he didn’t want to wait.

Turning his body towards her, shifting so all of his attention was solely focused on her, he just looked at her; let his gaze press into her, but just to look at her and not to read her. Noticing his stare, Molly turned to face him; her brows frowned in curiosity and a question on her lips.

 Before she was able to voice her question, he raised his hand and out stretched it to her. In a voice that was smooth as silk, yet slightly rough around the edges, that almost, almost had an innocence to it, he intoned, “Hello my name is Mycroft Holmes, it is nice to make your acquaintance.”

Her eyes flicked from his out stretched hand to his face, a small smile playing on his lips, she took his hand into her much smaller one and shook it tentatively; her head slightly titled in confusion, and a small crease between her eyes, she replied, “Um, hello I’m Molly Hopper. “

His smile grew, stretching across his face; his eyes brightening even in the dim car, “Molly Hopper, what a lovely name; it’s very nice to meet you Molly Hopper. So what is it that you do Miss Molly Hopper?”

Hands still clasped together, she settled their joined hands in between them on the seat, “Er I’m a Pathologist at St. Bart’s... Mycroft what are you doing?” she finally asked at last, the bizarreness of the situation winning over.

Shrugging his shoulders, he gave her a slightly sheepish look, “Well I figured that we had never really had a proper introduction to each other. As I recall our first interaction together was over a dead body, and I am trying to rectify that. Further, I was led to believe that small talk,” he said gesturing in between them with his free hand, his nose scrunched up (adorably), with some distaste, “ was something that ... people do to get to know each other and put the other at ease.”

Pausing, he took a deep breath and let his eyes take in her face, watching as the shape of her lips loosened, making them more full and rosy; his thumb unconsciously gliding over the back of her hand, tracing soothing patterns, “Is it working?”

She looked at him and could not help the laugh that bubbled up her throat and filled the vehicle with breathy, unabashed amusement. The sound of her laughter was music to his ears; its sheer delight awed him, and he could not help but be swept along with her laughter; a deep, rolling laugh that stole his breath and made his sides hurt.

Bodies sagging towards each other; her tucked under his arm, her head resting on his shoulder and his on the top of her head, their bodies limp from their hysteria. As their laughter subsided to giggles, the sound of their heaving breaths the only sound in the car, he gave her hand a gentle squeeze, and looked down at her with tender eyes.

As she felt the pressure to her hand she looked up to meet his eyes. The way he looked at her, the way his eyes seemed to caress her face and light upon her, for once someone was looking at her and not through her; looking at her and what she was and not what they thought she could be to them.

“Thank you” he said softly as he brought her hand to his lips and laid a gentle kiss upon it. At the touch of his lips, heat crept up her neck and stained her cheeks.

Sobering, she returned a reassuring squeeze to his hand, “For what?” she asked curiously.

Their eyes met, his a stormy, swirling ocean of blue, and hers a soft melting chocolate brown. His free hand moved to her face, to slide along her smooth skin to cup her soft cheek in the palm of his hand, his slightly callused thumb drifting across her cheekbone to ghost across her pouted bottom lip, the moist, hot puff of her breath ticking his hand.

His eyes strayed to her slightly parted lips as she unconsciously traced them with her tongue. As if drawn together by some invisible force, their eyes fluttered shut, her face turned up expectantly as she felt his fingers slide through her hair to the base of her neck, slowly caressing her skin there, his hot breath ghosting over her parted lips.

 “Thank you for making me laugh when I’d almost forgotten how to; when I’d almost forgotten to smile” he told her, his voice barely above a whisper.

Suddenly the car came to an abrupt stop, jarring the pair inside, and breaking the moment that had settled over them. Just as quickly, his hand fell from her, and he released her, as if the moment had never happened, however the warmth of his hand on her face lingered and testified to the reality of the moment.

Clearing his throat, his voice came out rough and gravely, “Shall we Molly Hopper”


	6. Chapter 6

In a slight daze, her thoughts still scrambled from his nearness and the subsequent abruptness of the loss of his presence, she was slightly confused, and looked as him; her eyes wide and questioning.

Giving her a soft smile, he indicated the window with a nod of his chin. Following his direction she finally noticed that the car had stopped and that they had arrived. Blushing deeply she ducked her head to avoid his gaze.

“Y-y-yes of course” she mumbled; eyes downcast.

She was slightly startled to feel a gentle pressure under her chin, raising her downcast eyes to meet his; his gaze dark and compelling, “You are extraordinary Molly Hopper, no more hiding”

Their eyes stayed locked together for but a moment, but something unmistakable passed between them; something they both recognized but were too afraid to acknowledge least they ruin the tentative whatever it was that was between them.

A slow smile stretched across her face, reaching her eyes and he couldn’t help the small smile that touched his lips.

Extending a hand to her, he let it hover between them; something in his gesture belayed more than just the intention to help her out of the car, but rather something more, something deeper. Looking at his hand she contemplated what it could mean; is he asking something of her? To trust him? To find out what this thing is between them is? Whatever it was, she concluded, the way his eyes glowed with a certain kind of warmth just for her, she would take the leap with him.

Placing her hand in his, she gave him a soft smile and let him lead her out of the car.

Stepping out of the car, she was slightly surprised; they were not at some overly fancy and expensive establishments in London, something that she had assumed was more to his tastes, but rather a tiny, inconspicuous restaurant with chipped, discoloured bricks, a thick, gaudy lit sign that, at most only had about half its lights lit, and that from the outside looked like it could just barely hold 10 people; wedged between a family run shoe shop and a corner shop with fruit stalls out front. All in all, it was not the impressive, posh fair that she had come to characterize of that man.

Turning her face up to him, her curious eyes met his, and he had to catch himself before he let his laughter slip; it ever so delighted him when he was able to surprise people, and it wouldn’t do to give the gave away too quickly.

Giving her a ambiguous smile, he tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow he led her into the restaurant; her side gently brushing against his as they walked side by side, sending a small thrill through her body.  
  
Opening the door, he held back the thick, velvet curtain that separated the entryway from the dining area. _Well_ , cam her first thought as she entered the restaurant, _definitely not any bigger on the inside, in fact it even appeared smaller on the inside, what will all the seating._

Her internal appraisal of the restaurant was quickly silenced as she was assaulted by the warm, humid heat of cooking, and the smells of aromatic herbs and tangy spices. Added to the low chatter of the patrons, it immediately set her at ease.

He watched her from slightly off the side of her elbow as what was never of her nervousness melted from her; her tense shoulders and posture relaxing, and her eyes losing the their shrouded, shuttered looked, to be replaced by a twinkling eagerness.

A man with salt and pepper hair, more salt than pepper, approached the pair, his face round and cheeks rosy from the prolonged exposure to the heat, his eyes bright, and a boisterous smile on his face. His hand outstretched, he greeted Mycroft heartily, shaking his hand vigorously; some would even go so far as to say too vigorously.

“Mr. Holmes! Always a pleasure to see you! And who might this lovely lady be?” he asked, not letting the other man get a word in edge wise.

Turning to Molly, the man smiled at her “Hello dear, I’m George, I’ve known Mr. Holmes for quite some time, and he has never once brought anyone with him here, you must be very special indeed” he finished with a wink.

“Now if you will follow me” he said, already starting to walk away from the pair, Molly following slightly behind trying valiantly to stifle her giggles, but failing miserably, while Mycroft watched on, mouth slightly gapping, and her face blushed a crimson shade.

Looking over her shoulder at him, laughter in her voice, Molly threw him a saucy smile, “Yes do come this way Mr. Holmes”

His mouth snapped shut with an audible click, and he found himself trailing behind her; him mind once more re-evaluating this slight, unassuming woman before him.

Once seated, orders taken, wine brought and sipped, with no other excuse or distraction, she lifted her eyes to him, a mischievous twinkle in them “So I’m someone special then?”

His mouth opened and closed a few times, no sound coming out, before he was able to stutter out, his eyes wide and slightly panicked, “No! I mean well yes, but ... I just ... I didn’t mean...” he looked up at her, something pathetically, at a loss for words for once in his life; give him a nuclear crisis to negotiate, and he could talk anyone in circles, but faced with a beautiful woman and his tongue turned to lead and all intelligent and witty thought seemed to flee from his brain.

Taking pity on him, she reached across the table and covered his hand with her’s, giving it an affectionate squeeze, “I’m only kidding Mycroft, I didn’t mean to give you a fright there” she consoled him; the light dimming ever so slightly in her eyes, something that only the keenest of observers would have noticed, and Mycroft being one of them, did.

 _How many Homles’ does it take for me to go through before one of them sees me a woman; to be good enough to be considered as more than just a friend,_ she thought to herself with a defeated inward sight.

The light; the spark in her

He frowned looking down at the table cloth, his eyes ever so slightly straying to their clasped hands, “... I don’t know if you are someone special to me, but I think... I think that I would very much like you to be. I thought that I had you figured out, but for the life of me I can honestly say that I really don’t know who you are, but that I really do want to find out. It’s confusing and scary, and... I don’t know how to respond”

More than anything he detested showing weakness and sentiment; after all he had come to associate them with the preverbal losing side. Inwardly, he chided himself for showing such sentiment, but tell her a lie he would not. And to see a light in her eyes slowly diminish, he could not bear it.  
  
When he finally raised his eyes to meet hers again, his eyes was swimming with turmoil; his confusion and conflict clearly evident. Molly was of the sort who acknowledged and dealt with her emotions, for better or for worse, and when she saw the clear struggle that he was having, a fierce protectiveness bubbled up within her. This man, this powerful man, for all of his prows, he was so unfamiliar with receiving or giving care to others; there was so much uncertainty and suspicion in him that she just wanted to track down all of those who made him believe that caring is not an advantage, and give them a piece of her mind.  
  
Their eyes lock, and as they stare silently into each other's eyes; both reading and seeing all of the other. The moment is loaded, teaming with questions that they are both too scared to ask and emotions that they are not ready to acknowledge; desire, longing, compassion, companionship, friendship.  
  
"... Just so you know I really am not a crazy cat lady, contrary to what my blog, that I am sure you already know about, appears to be" she remarks, instantly breaking the thick atmosphere that had developed between them.

Tipping his head back slightly, he let out a laugh; his eyes crinkling at the edges and his shoulders shook with mirth, a soft smile settling on his lips. She beams back at him, her smile bright enough to make him forget about all the “I shouldn’t”s and “but what if”s.

“We were never that great with pets when we were growing up, I have to admit. More often than not Sherlock would turn our pets into some science experiment. Mummy had to put her foot down when he tried to ‘evolve’ our umpteenth gold fish; he was obsessed with Darwin and the theory of evolution at the time” he regaled to her.

As their meals arrived they continued to swap stories and anecdotes about their lives growing up; before he was the British Government and before she was Dr. Hopper.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Mycroft gazed at Molly from across the table and watched as her eyes flashed, her hands gesturing wildly, and her face animated with excitement as she spoke. Mycroft was once praising himself on his impeccable memory and ability to multitask because if he could only be certain that he had retained a fraction of what she was saying.

He could not help but be memorized by her; the way her eyes twinkled, the way her cheeks were flushed, and the way her soft, delicate lips moved. As he watched her speak, a strand of her hair escaped her neat bun at the nape of her neck, and his hands itched to brush across her cheek to tuck it neatly behind her ear.

“Mycroft?”

He started slightly at the sound of his name on her lips, his eyes blinking back into focus; he really hoped that she didn’t notice that he wasn’t exactly paying attention, but rather spent the time observing her.

“Yes my dear?”

Grinning at him she replied, “Did you even hear a word I was say?”

“Of course” he intoned smoothly as he unconsciously straightened his tie and fiddled with his wine glass. _Not really,_ his mind screamed at him.

“Liar” she replied as a full bloomed smile spread across her face.

He clears his throat, “I never lie my dear” he says adopting his most government official persona; his chin slightly raised and mouth drawn in a straight line. However, in the face of her knowing smile, the affect was clearly lost.

“No? So then tell me what were you staring at all that time when you were supposedly listening to me” she countered with a mischievous smile; one of her brows raised, her head titled slightly to the side, her eyes pinning him to the spot.

Just as he was about the reply George approached the table and asked the pair if they were interested in anything for dessert. At this most convenient distraction, Mycroft let out a deep, relieved breath, thanking the heavens for George’s impeccable timing.  After placing their order, George turned to leave, however not before throwing Mycroft a sly wink over his shoulder when he was sure that Molly was not paying attention.

 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Their dessert arrived; a rich, dark chocolate ice cream (in store made) for him and a white chocolate raspberry ice cream for her. The pair gushed about how good their dessert was, and eventually, tentatively held out an offered spoon for the other to try in turn, with shy smiles and bashful glances.

As she held her spoon, a rivulet of melted ice cream ran down her the side of her hand. He watched the trickle of ice cream as he slid down her hand. His eyes widened and he almost groaned aloud at the sight of her delicate pink tongue flick out from between her soft, full lips, to lick at the drop of melted ice cream and slide up her hand in its waking trail. _God, what was this woman doing to him?_

 “So... why did you actually bring me here tonight? It’s just that well... er I have a tendency to over think things and make things out to be more than they actually are and I just don’t want to assume things and well... stop that you are driving me insane with all the looks and touches because I don’t know what it means!” she broke off in an exasperated tone of voice belaying her frustration and confusion.

He looked up at her startled, his eyes snapped to her, and he had to consciously put effort into not thinking about her tongue and lips. “Do forgive me Molly, I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. I just ... I’m sorry, I’ll stop”

“No!” she exclaimed, reaching a hand out over the table to grasp his. “That is not what I meant. I... I don’t want you to stop... if you don’t want to that is” she continued with a hopeful Leith to her voice.  

“I just need to know... was this a date Mycroft?” she asked him, her eyes steadfast and unwavering.

He took a moment to put his spoon down and take a deep breath; something to buy him a bit more time while his racing mind trying to come up with a suitable answer. Could he tell her the truth, that yes he wanted it to be a date more than anything else, but was that something that she wanted to hear?

He broke his gaze from her, shifting it down to look towards their joined hands; something that he had done quite a bit of during the evening. Her hand in his felt so warm; so secure, he rarely encountered those feelings anymore and he wanted to commit it to memory, least he not have the fortune to again.

“Would you like it to be?” he asked her.

She distinctly noticed his evasion of answering the question, but she pressed on anyways. Her heart beating wildly in her chest, she gave his hand a squeeze, silently asking for his attention. His eyes rise to hers, vulnerable, slightly fearful, but with a hopefulness that made her breath catch in her lungs and constrict around her heart.

“I would... like it to be I mean” she said, her eyes soft and inviting.

His fingers interlaced with hers and gave her an almost shy, bashful smile, “I think I would too”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the hug scene from DW season finale :)

As their meal came to an end and the cheque was brought, they, like many 20th century couples had a light squabble over who was to pay the cheque, which was soon settled by the logic that since he was the one to invite her out for the meal, it was then his responsibility to pay for said meal.

Agreeing, albeit reluctantly to his logic, Molly made a point to state that next time she was going to be the one to take him out. At the mention of a next time, they both shared a bright look; it felt so natural to think of a next time, that even though their whatever it was, was in its infancy, that they had made such an impression on each other that it was infeasible to think that their wouldn’t be.

Pushing his chair back he gets up and shrugs his coat on and he makes his way around to her side of the table. Stepping up behind her, he lays one hand on her shoulder, while the other goes to the side of her chair; intended to help her from her seat, like the gentleman Mummy taught him to be.

Turing her face up to him, the soft candle light glinting in her eyes and making her glow, she gives him a smile filled with so much affection and promise that it makes his heart constrict in his chest; for all the things he has done in his life- all the horrible, destructive, and unforgiveable things that he has done, how did he come to be graced with such loving beauty.

She sees the turmoil in his eyes; the self deprecating disgust and shame, and vows to herself that she will forever strive to show him he deserves and is loved, especially by her. Murmuring a soft thank you as he hold back her chair for her she stands, crowding his space as she does so, but she does not step back and neither does he.

Picking up her discarded coat, he hold is open to her to slip her arms through. Turning her back to him, she brushes her hair to the side, exposing the shapely, pale column of her neck to him, and slips her arms through her sleeves. She can feel his hot breath puff against her neck and it send a shiver through her body and raises goose bumps on her flesh. Mistaking her shiver for her being cold, he rubs his hands up and down her arms several times.

“Better” he whispers against the shell of her ear, his nose brushing it gently; his chest brushing against her back ever so slightly that she had to concentrate really hard to feel it ghost against her.

Turning to face him once again, all she can do is nod her head, her cheeks heated and flushed; her breath caught in her throat.

Tilting his head slightly to the side, he quirked his lips up into a sort of lopsided smile that made her heart melt and her stomach flutter, he silently gestured towards the exist. Returning his smile with a small one of her own, she gave a little wave to George on her way out, Mycroft following close behind her, his hand settling on the small of her back.

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The drive back to her flat was filled with shy, yet deliberate touches and sidelong glances; both just content to be able to openly feel the warmth of the others skin brush against their own without having to disguise or hide it with flimsy excuses.

Pulling up outside her flat, he got out of the car and went around opening her door. Outstretching his hand, he reached down taking her hand in his, he gently pulled her off the seat and onto her feet. Intertwining their hands together, he raises their joined hands to his mouth, and brushes his lips over her knuckles, his eyes never leaving hers.

Her eyes widened comically, and a small squeak escaped from her lips before she could stop it, and he let out a soft laugh; he loved the sounds she made; the sighs, the soft breathy laughter, the squeaks, the tiny gasps. Tucking her hand into the crook of his arm and leading her up the stairs to her flat.

As they approached the door, she extracted herself from him, instantly feeling the loss of his touch. Rummaging in her purse, she procured her and set about unlocking the door. Not wanting the evening to end just yet, she half turned to him to catch him staring at her. Glancing up at him, she asked him tentatively, shyly, “Would you like to come in for a bit?”

At her words, he falters slightly and hesitantly replies at last, “I really shouldn’t.” However, his body, even unconsciously, will have nothing of it and is already shifting in her direction.

“It’s nothing like that... I’m just not ready to say goodnight just yet. Please” she says, dropping her gaze and twisting her fingers together nervously.

Gentle fingers move under her chin to raise her gaze to meet his. What she sees makes her heart race and her mouth go dry; his eyes are so warm and inviting and she marvels slightly that someone would look at her this way.

“I’d be honoured to” he tells her.

Taking his hand in hers, she tugs him in after her as she shoulders the door open.

Standing just inside the doorway, he takes a moment to watch her flit around the room, putting on the kettle to prepare tea, before shedding his own coat and hanging it up next to hers.

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Before long with were both settled on her sofa, sitting side by side, a cushions width apart, slightly angled towards each other, hot, steaming cups of tea held tightly in their hands, and easily slipping into discussions about everything and nothing at all, both just content to hear the others voice.

As the hour grew later, it found their cups discarded to the low table in front of them; Molly with her legs tucked under her, her whole body facing him, and her knees resting against the side of his leg; and Mycroft leaning slightly towards her with his arm casually resting along the back of the soft, his fingers drawing shapeless patterns on her shoulder.

As they continued to converse, her body sagged more and more towards his, her words becoming slightly slurred with exhaustion, and wide yawns making her pause to blink back the moisture in her eyes.

A particular big yawn made her reach up to cover her mouth, and when she got her breath back she gave him a sheepish smile, “Sorry” she said.

Giving her a soft smile, he shook his head, indicating that he was not in the least bit bothered. “I think,” he said as he moved to straighten his tie, brush the creases out of his pants, and glance at the clock on the mantle, “the hour is indeed very late, and whilst I have very much enjoyed our evening together, it is time that I depart” he finished as he stood, offering her his hand to help her to her feet as he did so.

Nodding her head in agreement, she lets him pull her to her feel. They both pause a moment to enjoy the closeness before she is tugging him towards the door.

Leading him to the door, they stand awkwardly together for a moment, both internally struggling on what should happen next.

_Is he going to kiss me? Do I want him to kiss me... of course I want him to kiss me that was a stupid question. Would it be too muc too fast?_

_She wants me to kiss her, I can see it all over her face. But do I just kiss her or it is too soon? Is there some sort of protocol for this? Damn it, I should have asked Anthea earlier._

“Well, I had a very lovely evening tonight, thank you” she said as she glanced up at him, her hand idly fiddling with a lose string at her sleeve.

“As did I Molly” he replied.

“... Well goodnight” she said at last, hesitating before reaching up on her tip toes to wrap her arms around him in an awkward hug.

As her arms slide around him, she feels his body, stiff and tense, and abruptly her arms fall to her side and she stutters out, “I-I-I’m sorry” she says as she ducks her head in embarrassment _. Maybe he’s just not ready or maybe he’s just not that into you_ , her traitorous mind scolded her.

Her head bowed and arms now firmly wrapped around her middle, she didn’t dare look any higher than his chest, afraid of the rejection that she might see in his icy blue eyes. He watched as she retreated into herself and mentally kicked himself.

Reaching out a hand, he gently touched her elbow, drawing her attention to him once again. His eyes glittered with emotion as they met; him trying to convey how much she was beginning to mean to him with just one look.

“I’ve never been one for hugs” he told her taking a tentative step closer towards her.

“Hugs hide too much; never trust a hug” his words are coming out softer; deeper, as he slides his hands around her to settle on her waist.

“It’s just another way to hide your face” he continues as one of his hand travels up, skimming the sensitive flesh beneath her cloths at her side.

“But a kiss” he says as his hand continues and moves to cup her cheek and gently lifts her head to his, closing the distance between them. She is memorized and is moving in tandem with him; her face drawing up unconsciously as his drew down.

Their lips a breath away, the hot puff of their mingled breaths caught between them.

“A kiss can tell you everything” he finishes as he closes the space between them and touches his lips to hers in a feather light kiss.  

 

Epilogue

Sitting at home in the relative quiet of their respective homes, alone, they both were lost in thought, something was different. Of all the countless times they had found themselves in this same situation; home alone with no other soul about, the empty quiet their only companion, there was always this dull ache in the back of their minds, in the deepest parts of their heart. But right now, at this moment, although nothing was different everything had changed. They knew that someone else out there was thinking of them, and with just that thought in mind, things were not so lonely anymore.

 

 

The End 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want to give a huge thanks for everyone who stuck with it. This is the first fic that wasn't a one-shot that I have ever finished and all of your comments and likes was a huge boost in helping me to write this.
> 
> Lots of love and hugs! 
> 
> :)


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